Insults are the stabs added to the scab of the wound. And they hurt like hell which is why I pass out from the undescribable pain.

I can never get too much of an adrenaline rush when it comes to writing. It heals my pain. Eases my depression. The exact opposite of what other people's words do to me. My hope is infested with criticism. It's terrorized by the people that love me most, but they don't know me like they think they do. My wet dreams occur when I think about this one guy.

His muscular body. That kool-aid, charming smile when his confidence rises, my heart still races for him. And seeing this mysterious man look at me with his blue sky eyes, I can't help but get....Distracted by him. People gave me hugs before, but nothing compares to the way he holds me. His chest is warm. Never have I felt so secured and loved at the same time. He doesn't pile up shit on me. He doesn't add insult to injury. His soft skin devours my tears that pour out like a knife to my throat. My blood gushes out violently, but his gentle touch diminishes how cold I feel, when I feel alone and lonesome.

His mindset to to take control while I kiss him appauls me. Those lips press softly against me, making me feel power; power to for me to relax while my hands trace to his body all through his back. No one will understand why I'm only affectionate with him. With anybody else I have to force myself to fake a smile and throw on a fake personality just to get through it. Any of my ex girlfriends kiss me-I felt nothing. But when he does it I feel everything.

The pison of his lips touchin the sweet point-the collarbone of my neck, my mental begging for more becomes his wish gestire to ask and recieve. It might hurt. But it will hurt good.